Fate
by satsukiarisa
Summary: No matter how hard he wished otherwise, some things were just meant to be. *Featuring Bad-ass Lovino*
1. Chapter 1

**A.U: I'm probably going to regret posting this tomorrow but anyway, this is just a little something I smacked together and maybe have a little idea about the plot but before I spend loads of time on it, I just want to know what you guys think of it so far. If you like it then I'll probably finish it off and actually edit this properly (after NaNo of course x3). Japan has made me lazy .**

"It's over."

Storm clouds clashed together, the words repeated in loud cymbal-like clashes echoing around his brain. With it came the uneasy rain of change, painful wet drops slapped against his skin chilling him to the bone.

Lovino Vargas was seldom wrong when it came to weather. When, before dashing out the door, he'd automatically reached for his umbrella, he'd had no doubts that it was going to start pissing down despite the television's prediction for sunny skies.

Now as he stared into shifty green eyes, quaking on the edge of the metal seat, body hot then cold in the feverish winds of unease, he realised that once again he had predicted the weather correctly however it was not the Neapolitan sky that was dark and heavy with clouds of grief but his own.

The rushed babble of chatter and music was overpowered by the uncomfortable fast-beating of his heart. The beating increased to the point of pain as the green eyes refused to meet his own, instead they chose to hunch over the ridiculous excuse for a cappuccino (really this was _**Italy**_ and somehow they had still managed to end up at a place that sold crap instead of coffee. What the hell was the world coming to?) and gaze into the frothy liquid as if it could somehow reveal the solution to all the problems in the world.

A shaky glare at his own coffee cup revealed nothing but a pathetic swirl of steam that got in his eyes and the smell of slightly-off cream that caused toe-curling nausea. Cleary the great Italian spirit of cappuccino was not in the mood for giving advice.

Good thing really because if anybody tried to explain to him what was happening he would have snapped out of his dazed state and smashed the china against the finger-smudged window, glaring bloody murder as the thick sludgy liquid slurred down the glass.

As it was there was nobody to knock him out of his current state of vulnerability; so he just stared, numb as the complaints that he was hungry, the coffee was disgusting and that the metal chair must have been a pervert because it was terrorising his ass and a thousand other's died in his throat leaving only the timid whisper of: "why?"

A voice, more bitter than the coffee that he refused to drink, whispered a name inside his mind. He shook his head in denial. His gaze drifted to the pale hand that was tense on the table between them. He wished he had the courage to take it like and make the other understand that it couldn't possibly be over because of what he felt. But stiff with the fear of rejection it took all of his bravery just to peer past his ex-boyfriend's glasses and into those small flat eyes.

"Tell me what I did wrong and I'll change." Another time he would have cared that his voice cracked in hysteria. Instead he pushed all his feeling into his voice, begging to be understood. "I promise I can change! Just don't fucking leave me now."

The unspoken words thundered around his body trying to fight their way up to his mouth but somehow he managed to swallow the: _**Now that I've fallen in love with you.**_

Every second spent he staring past the thick-rimmed glasses in a silent plea not to break his heart, was another second spent in self-loathing. 'Weak. Needy. Pathetic.' A voice cooed maliciously inside his brain. 'It's disgusting.' And yet if throwing away his pride and baring his soul convinced the man to stay with him it was worth the unbearable shame. Even just hearing that it something he himself did that drove the man away would have made him feel a little better, anything as long as it wasn't what he thought it was.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

He was right.

The thread that held him together pulled taut and snapped, leaving his mind to shatter into a million pieces among the dirt covered cobblestones and used cigarette butts.

"You want my brother." He said quietly but with conviction. The green eyes blinked once, twice before their owner bobbed his head in affirmation. "You don't have a chance with him."

Bitterness and hurt dropped off every word as the volume of his voice steadily increased. He should have known this was going to happen but for once he decided to open up blindly believed that he could be loved. What a fucking joke. "He'll turn you down. He'll fucking hate you!"

"I know that!" The man hissed back, eyes flashing in anger. He slammed the cup on the table neither of them caring that the scalding liquid splashed onto Lovino's hands. "Why d'you think I got with you?"

His head jerked up as if he'd received a harsh slap to the face. Instead of his cheek, his heart was stinging and the mark was not there for everybody to see but it hurt so much more. More so than the hot liquid burning into his palms.

The man ran a hand through his neat blonde hair and nudged a serviette towards him. Lovino just stared at him, letting the liquid soak into his hands.

That's right feel guilty bastard, he thought as the man winced but it didn't bring him any satisfaction.

The man cast a worried glance at two old ladies who were watching them with dark eyes, before awkwardly returning his dull green eyes back to him and making everything ten hundred times worse. "Are you okay?"

What a stupid question. Lovino screwed his eyes shut wondering how he could even begin to articulate the hollowness inside of him and whether he should even bother.

There went 6 whole months when he could have been focussing on his career. 6 shitting months wasted because he'd spent every moment of them loving or thinking about loving the bastard in front of him who didn't even like him in the first place.

Once again he'd opened his heart up only to be knocked down and screwed over by the very person he gave his unearned affections to.

As he pushed to his feet, cappuccino untouched, the loud screech of the metal chair leg scraping against stone roused the attention of some curious children who looked up at him with skin as dark as his own and big olive coloured eyes.

'_Never fall in love'_, he thought not even bothering to scowl at them, '_it hurts too much'_.

He turned to the small green eyes one more time, and glanced away again before the chords of pain could begin to play their melody.

There were so many things he could have said but his ex was not a romantic, preferring straightforward explanations to waxing lyrics. So he summed everything up the best he could, all the things he wanted to say bundled up in his dangerously soft voice. "I thought you were different."

Before the first fiery tears could pinch at his eyes he was racing from the bar, expensive shoes slapping down on the ground and pushing him through the unusually crowded square.

Frustration showed in his jerky movements, shoving people out of the way and pushing away sharp elbows as the crowd jostled back and forth, everyone determined to stay put.

When he stumbled outside of the crush of people, loud childish cries of "il circo! il circo!" could be heard from the excited crowd.

He stood by a wooden wagon that undoubtedly belonged to cherished entertainers and could just make out a fire eater dancing around atop a small makeshift stage, giving the hungry horde of Neapolitan's a little taste of his skills.

He resisted the urge to scoff at the expressions of immature wonder etched onto faces of all ages. It was merely a publicity stunt to get the poor bastards to spend all of next month's pay-check on a circus that would in all probability be worse than the little 'taste' they were being offered.

His heart was broken but still life went on, in the Naples and in the world.

He fought with his jacket, struggling in agitation to retrieve his cell-phone from its leathery grasp. After a particularly rude string of curses the mobile jerked free into his hands. To his shame his fingers were shaking when he pushed the buttons, notifying his driver that he was ready to get the fuck out of here. The phone was shoved back into the jacket as he leant back against the wagon and tilted his face up towards the sky, trying to drown out the sounds of the crowd and stop the silent tears from trickling down his face.

Clouds were starting to make their merry way across the sky now after all and just his luck that he left the umbrella with the bastard. He let out a short mirthless laugh at the irony of it all. It was going to rain and he couldn't even hope the prick caught a cold because he'd left him an umbrella.

Desperate for any distraction to keep his mind off of him and to stop the horrible feelings building inside him he stared hard at the worrying clouds. Quickly they transformed into images: This one was a tomato, that one was a sword, that one was his ex's head. It was a grim satisfaction when the cloud sword collided with the head and dismantled it. But he knew causing the real person pain wouldn't make him feel any better. If he'd thought it would then he'd already be pinning him to the floor with a gun to his hea-

"Hola!"

"Shit!"

Two bright green eyes blocked his view of the sky and watched him with amusement as he stumbled backwards.

He scrambled away from the wagon, to see a man wearing a bull's mask bending over the top of the wagon and peering at him with a burning curiosity.

Lovino took a few hurried steps back away from him, fully intent of swinging around and running away but the man stretched to his feet, revealing an over-embellished matador's outfit. Temporarily stunned by the strange clothing he stopped and watched in disbelief as the man sprang from the wagon and somersaulted over his head, landing with a small thump behind him.

He swang around, weary of the mask-wearing man and flinched as something white was thrust into his face. He swatted it away to see the innocent green eyes, much brighter and more vivid than the man he'd ran away from, staring at him with a small smile.

"Have a cheer-up charm senor!" The man pressed an intricately made white rose into his hand. "I'm sure whoever made you so upset will come round. Love always wins in the end."

Lovino clenched his fist as the tears started falling faster and glared at the ridiculous bull-mask. The whole world just wanted to make fun of him today didn't they? They all wanted him to go and die already what more of a fucking sign did he need? Even the freaking circus freaks were taking the piss out of him now. The wire of the fake rose sank into his skin painfully as he squeezed it but he paid no notice, even when it pierced his skin and caused a little stream of blood to land on the floor.

"Love" He spat the word out, making it as twisted as it deserved to be. "does not exist bastard! It never will, not for anyone and especially not for me!"

He threw the rose to the ground, satisfied when one of the petals was tainted with the red of his blood.

The circus freak blinked, bright smile quickly loosing its lustre and being replaced with a worried frown.

Lovino turned away at the sounds of a car rolling across the road. Finally the bastard driver was here to pick him up.

Gentle fingers brushed past his hair, making him jump.

"Don't cry senor. Tears don't suit such a pretty face." The man whispered, sending shivers down his spine.

Lovino clenched his eyes shut. He wouldn't let this happen again. Nobody was going to screw him over anymore. He refused to be gullible enough to fall for that again.

Feeling the deep green eyes on him, he took off towards the car, running without looking back at the masked man and the dirty rose on the floor. That was the representation of his heart. It was once pure but it only took a little drop to make it so dirty that it would never be clean again.

The moment he stumbled through the door the smell of spaghetti and pizza washed over him and predictably, Feliciano (A.K.A the perfect one) span out of the kitchen with a stupid grin on his face and an even stupider apron.

Lovino pursued his lips and sped past his sibling, trying not to let himself fall apart even more.

He made it to his bedroom and shoved a random pile of clothes into his already mostly packed suitcase. The light stomps of Feliciano's gait breaking him down even more. He turned to glare at his brother, only to find that the goofy grin was gone and he wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Why are you crying?" The words were muttered, something that Feliciano never did and at that moment it made even more sense.

Feliciano already knew he was going to leave him. Of course, everybody fell for him so why should this time be anytime different?

But it was different. He had finally had enough.

It was time things changed for good. No more Naples. No more Feliciano. No more falling in love.

He was going to do this and nobody could stop him. Not that anybody actually cared.

Feliciano slipped behind him and put a concerned hand on his shoulder. Lovino turned to look into his innocent, love-filled, perfect eyes and tried not to scream. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. He wanted to shake his little brother and demand to know why everybody wanted him but he already knew. Feliciano was perfect. He was just not worth it.

"We're not going to Spain until next week." Feliciano's voice was soft and coaxing as he gently tried to unfurl Lovino's hands from the suitcase handle.

That voice was so kind and patient. So talented and full of love and affection. Everything that Lovino wasn't. Fuck he was a saint. No wonder everybody loved him. What good was Lovino next to that? He pushed Feliciano away from him, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that shot through his mind when the man whimpered.

He was being strangled in Feliciano's shadow and he was sick of being in the dark. There was a chance for him to shine and he was going to grab it with both hands.

"I'm not going to Spain." No he was staying in Italy. Just not here, not where that ass Romulus had lived, nor where so many of his own lovers had fallen for his brother instead.

Suitcase fully packed, he strode out of the room, ignoring the tears still falling down his cheeks.

"Where are you going?" Feliciano tried to grab him but Lovino shoved him away roughly and turned on him with fire in his eyes.

"Just get out of here!" He didn't look up to see whether Feli had heeded his command. The shaking had caused something white to float gently onto the bed, from his hair. His fists curled up as he glared at the pure white rose on his bed, just as perfectly made as the one he'd thrown on the floor.

Stupid circus bastard and his stupid white roses.

He snatched it from the covers and raised his hand to throw it to the floor and ruin it just as he had the other one.

but somehow the green eyes kept flashing in his mind, watching him with a childlike gaze as he prepared to do something horrible. Not that Lovino usually gave a shit about curroupting adult's (or children's) minds but those eyes...

Anger dissipating and leaving room for more hurt, he lowered his hand and looked at the rose. Black markings on one of the petals caught his attention. He peeled the petal back to get a better look and blinked in shock. Written in small but very graceful handwriting were the words: _Love does exist. _The next petal had a phone number written on it and the signature: _Espana~_

Suddenly the anger was back in full-bloom. Those stupid green eyes were trying to make him weak already but he'd already decided that enough was enough. He'd show that bastard. He wasn't wrong, love didn't exist. Love is meant to be forever, but nothing lasts forever.

He'd keep the rose with him as a reminder of that and if he ever met the bastard again, then he'd be able to thrust the rose and truth in his face.

He unzipped one of his bags and placed the rose in the top before hauling his luggage out to the car.

"When are you coming back?" Feliciano whimpered from behind him.

For once Lovino chose not to answer. Without turning to acknowledge his brother, he got into the car, slammed the door shut and barked at the driver to get his ass moving already.

He allowed himself one last glance at his brother before his shape completely dissolved behind him and then whispered his goodbye. Never again was he coming back here, never again was he going to be used and never again was he ever going to love.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This chapter is set two years later... because it actually is like two years later. Haha how is that for real time story-telling for you! If anyone is still reading this thing I have had this idea in my head for ages but well just didn't write it. Suddenly was overcome by the urge to write and so I wrote. :)**_

* * *

><p>"You want me that bad?"<p>

Expensive wine. Lowered lights. Soothing saxophone.

"Come the fuck on already." Daan's eyes flashed; stuck on him.

Coiling smoke. Discarded trousers. Rattling chains.

Lovino stretched his legs on the desk, leant back into his black armchair and sucked in. Burning ash and a rush of comfortable heat went in and then back out of him.

His suit: impeccable (of course). The room: stylishly dark. The crimson carpet only highlighted the colours of his hair, his eyes and of course the white of Daan's boxers and the bulge growing within them.

Bastard must have felt so exposed sitting there like that under his mocking eyes. Deserved it too. Although judging by the licking of his lips and the unabashed staring he was too thick headed to feel embarrassment. Must have thought he was really going to get somewhere this time. Some people just did not take the hint. Another sip of wine: he mulled it around in his mouth like an interesting thought.

Handcuffs rattled as Daan once again attempted to rise from his chair.

"Stop it. You'll only hurt yourself." Idiota. Ruled by one thing that man was. "Did you really think you were going to get somewhere with me?"

Daan breathed in; slowly, shakily. "We both know I am."

"Please." Lovino snorted suddenly interrupting the thick and hazy atmosphere. "I'm the one in charge here."

Two loud clumsily knocks at the door made Daan twist around in his chair.

"That would be your charming sister."

There was a quiet "Fuck" and the chains rattled. If he actually undid those handcuffs the man try to fling him down on the desk and take him there. The word 'Try' was essential in that case, he wasn't a fucking pussy. How else would he have got the handcuffs on in the first place? Lovino was the boss. Always the boss.

The door opened to a cheerful blonde woman and bright light. Lovino winced; he was turning fucking vampiric with his latest attempt at interior design. That was it. The lighting had to be brighter in his office but to sacrifice the effect… He shook his head. Focus boss focus.

"Good news Bella?"

Didn't expect anything less. With his talent and her management they always came out on top. Without exception. Although excitable, Bella was extremely sharp when it came to getting things done and getting them done perfectly and on time. Her hair was tied up loosely in a bun today, eyes shining with an excitement that only enhanced her attractiveness. Her navy form fitting dress was one of a kind, stylish and smart.

"Of course. Sold out in record time but… but but but but but" Oh dear God. The woman was hopping in stilettos. "Let me in Lovino. You are going to want to celebrate! Let me in! It's so exciting!"

"What?" Daan was being very quiet right now. A quick glance confirmed that he was trying to cower as low as possible to avoid his sisters sharp eyes. "The security guy is dressed up as a superhero again?"

"No" She paused. "Well yes, but it's your brother."

Oh? Interesting. Hadn't seen him since last Christmas. 7 months ago now. How time flew when you were busy taking over the world. Feli always sent him long, near illegible emails about some German dude who sucked on potatoes and was as pale as a milk-sucking zombie. It was sure to end soon.

"He's getting married. Well he got engaged and sent you a letter inviting you to the party."

Or not.

Lovino went back into the office. He grabbed his jacket off of the chair and strode past Bella, pausing only to press a key into her palm.

"Wait five minutes and then let your brother out. I'll be back in a few days."

Lovino strode away keying a number into his phone as he walked. One dial tone and then a soft voice answered.

"Get me a flight to Barcelona, Spain leaving in one hour."

His duty as an Italian dictated that he stopped his brother from making the biggest mistake of his life. Oh God his family was a pain in the ass. Nonno was probably cackling at him right now from underneath some devil's toga. His mobile vibrated notifying him that his driver was ready. Time to fly to the country of heat and okayish cuisine. How drunk could he get on a one hour flight?


End file.
